This was it, and even though Frank had fully prepared himself, nothing could have prepared him for how he currently felt. He definitely expected something else. A much more formal meeting place than a cozy breakfast café. So out in the open and on display. Neutral ground, he surmised. It made Frank feel so much more frazzled about it all. He didn't want to admit that there was even a small amount of a stage-fright-esque fear that remained unquelled in his gut. Frank didn't think that he would ever be scared about doing something like this. It was his job, it was what he was being paid to do, but fear was residing in him and he couldn't shake it. Frank was the small child coming face to face with the monster that lurked in his closet. He was well aware that he was blowing things way out of proportion. Although, with the way that his own personal nervous butterflies were swarming and attacking his stomach lining, it was safe to say that he had all right to blow things out of proportion. But it wasn't just a person, it was a politician, a Congressman.
He had seen this restaurant a million times. He had driven past it in the car and seen the cheery-yellow umbrellas outside that would cast enough comfortable shade for the patrons who were enjoying the warmth of a sunny day without risking melanoma.
Frank watched the restaurant for a second longer, trying to ignore Ryan in the driver's seat beside him. And it wasn't like he was suddenly having second thoughts about all of this. He knew that he couldn't get out of this now, what with ten minutes remaining until he was supposed to be meeting this Congressman. An important man who probably had better things to do with his time than sit in a restaurant and talk to some wannabe-writer for a small town newspaper. He knew that he had to prove himself and also prove to himself that he could do this.
Frank had so many thoughts running through his head that it was beginning to get crowded. There were many possibilities that ended well in his head where Frank would talk to this guy who would enlighten him completely. This guy would definitely be years above Frank with far more experience. He would be wiser, of course. And that was exactly what scared the living shit and eggs out of Frank in the first place. He also knew that he could easily fuck up the golden opportunity that he had been given. He was trying to be confident but everything was going against him today. Including the location, the time and the fact that his stomach was churning not just because he was nervous, but because he had been so nervous this morning that even the very idea of breakfast was enough to make him green.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Ryan asked softly, his voice snapping Frank out of his worrisome reverie. Frank blinked hard, vision refocused. Ryan's question seemed to register only a fraction in Frank's head and his eyes flickered away from the restaurant. He turned to look at his partner, seeing the smile that Ryan was giving him. As much as the nerves were trying to knock Frank down a peg or two, he still tried to smile back. Frank tried to show confidence even though he was so sure that Ryan could see through it; the weak expression on his face was a dead give-away.
"Yeah," Frank nodded quickly, turning his attention back to the eatery, "I'm good, dude."
"Y'know," Ryan said to him idly, watching Frank case the place like a robber spying for exits. Frank's hand was white around the door handle, knuckles a pure ivory. He was so sure something was going to break under the tensile strength of his grip, "It's okay to be nervous."
"I'm not nervous." Frank lied, not looking at Ryan as the words fell from his lips. Frank knew that if he looked at Ryan, his cover would be blown and he'd be seen as utter chickenshit. He chewed on his lip as he tried will himself the courage to get out of the car.
The Congressman could have been in the restaurant already and Frank had no idea. He could have been waiting patiently for Frank, not realizing that Frank was having a small crisis in the car that was parked opposite where they were supposed to meet and talk.
"I can tell you're nervous," Ryan chuckled, reaching a hand across the car to try and get Frank's attention. He laid his hand on Frank's thigh, giving him encouraging affection, but it didn't work. Frank jumped in his seat and wondered if Ryan was trying to give him heart failure, "Frank. Take a breath."
Frank obeyed the gentle offer, taking in a lung full of air, but it did nothing to calm him down. He didn't get how people telling him to breathe was supposed to calm him down. It just made him more aware of his tongue and that made him panic more. Frank looked at Ryan briefly before his gaze drifted down to his bag in the footwell. In his bag he had the bare essentials. Notebook, pens, recorder; all that he needed for this. He had everything set up and he was ready for this, but mentally he was really starting to wonder if he could have been more prepared.
"I just..." Frank started before he stopped himself, wondering if he actually wanted to go ahead and voice how he felt to Ryan, but he sighed, "I really don't wanna fuck this up."
"You're not gonna fuck this up," Ryan reassured him with a roll of the eyes, "Frank, you've got this."
"I don't want him to think I'm stupid," Frank voiced one of the many fears that were starting to crop up in his head right now, "Wh- Dude- What if all this hard work I've done... He just thinks that it's stupid."
"He won't," Ryan reassured him, "You're not stupid. He won't think that this is stupid."
Frank nodded, feeling somewhat better about it. The mere reassurance from Ryan allayed his fears a smidgen despite how badly it still niggled in his stomach. He tugged nervously on his jacket sleeves and grimaced at the outfit, remembering that Ryan had helped him pick it out because he had almost fainted with the anxiety. He knew he couldn't pitch up in his usual comfy clothes, but he still had zero idea on the occasion and its dress code.
The white t-shirt and black sweater worked well together as it always did especially when it was paired with his black jeans and the black boots that he was grateful he owned. Ryan had picked out his sweater, too. Frank had worried that it was too casual; the black sweater was a bit worn around the edges but Ryan had said that it would be perfect. Frank had been annoyed with himself because when he was half-dressed with his t-shirt and sweater on, he realized that he hadn't had a single clean pair of socks to his name.
He had sworn and cursed every dirty up and down minute until Ryan had to come to his aid. All of Frank's socks had somehow managed to end up in the laundry hamper. At first, he had toyed with the idea that he should have just put on a dirty pair because it wouldn't matter. It was when Ryan found him digging in the hamper, he nearly fainted and had to pry Frank from the hamper like a dog digging a hole in the yard. He had been so sure that he had had a clean black pair of socks for today but they had been swallowed up into the ethersphere somehow. Ryan had offered to help him out as a good boyfriend would and even tossed Frank a pair of his own socks that he could wear. Herein lay the problem that was definitely not helping Frank's anxiety.
Frank felt so self-conscious about the socks that Ryan had given him. Frank liked his socks simple and one-color. He was the opposite of Ryan in this way. Frank liked solid colors and minimal pattern. He liked dark colors and tones. Ryan adored patterns and pattern-mixing. He wasn't necessarily a fan of bright colors and neons but muted shades like burnt orange and plum were a favorite combination if you threw in some plain and paisley. And then an extra pattern to his socks. Frank owned twelve pairs of socks and all of them were black except for a single pair of navy blue ones that he still had from high school gym.
Yet Ryan always wore a shock of color on his feet because that's just how Ryan chose to live his life. His clothes were the exact opposite of his bland routine in Frank's opinion. The shock of color was what Frank felt so self-conscious about because they were the socks Frank had no choice but to wear. The socks were the softest pastel pink he had ever encountered, like cotton candy. Oh, and they had pineapples all over them, too.
Frank wouldn't exactly go out on a limb and say that these socks were very formal and he felt that they were so very bright against the rest of his dark outfit. Frank had wished that Ryan hadn't found him raiding the laundry hamper and that he could have just gotten away with wearing dirty socks with a bit of powder or Febreze in them or something. But no, the universe was not so kind. Frank had found a pair of black socks and had lifted them up to his nose to smell just how pungent they had become while fermenting in and amongst his clothing. Ryan yelped out in horror and smacked them away as though Frank were a child about to eat a worm. Frank was really hoping that the Congressman wouldn't make a snap judgment about Frank's intellect based on his choice of bright socks. He was hoping that congressman Way wasn't going to be paying attention to what Frank was wearing at all and paying more attention to what Frank was asking him.
"I just," Frank paused for a moment. He didn't want to hurt Ryan's feelings because he had done a nice thing. He had saved Frank from the possibility of wearing a pair of days-old socks that really didn't smell okay enough. It was just that the gesture itself could make or break his interview. He bit his lip, "I just hope that I look okay for this."
"You look fine."
"Is this enough?" Frank asked the same question that he had asked Ryan several times before they both left the house. He felt the need to repeat the question. He couldn't help it. He sighed and looked down, "I mean, the whole outfit... It looks okay, doesn't it?"
"Of course it looks okay."
"So nothing stands out as... Too garish or totally out of place, like, say... The socks?"
"What is wrong with my socks?" Ryan asked with a frown, clearly wondering why Frank had chosen that particular item to nitpick on.
"Nothing," Frank replied noncommittally even though the wince on his face gave him away, "It's just... Dude, they may be a little too bright."
"But they're my lucky socks. I gave them to you so you would have good luck today." Ryan pouted, "I was doing a nice thing."
"And it was a nice thing-" Frank cut himself off, suddenly wishing that he hadn't brought it up at all despite how heavily the bright colors and tropical fruits were weighing on his mind.
"Just forget I said anything."
"Do you have a problem with my socks?" Ryan pushed his questioning, making Frank groan.
"I don't have a problem with your socks," Frank reassured him with an appeased smile. Ryan sat there, pursing his lips as Frank checked his phone and saw how little time he had left, "I've got a few minutes..."
"You're going to be fine." Ryan smiled at his boyfriend. He was currently sitting next to Ryan in the car, looking out at the restaurant while he pulled his bag out of the footwell with a green tint to his face.
"You're confident." Frank snorted, rolling his eyes; he hated how Ryan was far too confident of Frank's abilities. Frank almost felt jealous over the fact that Ryan was so confident. If only he could be as confident as Ryan.
"I am because I know you can do this," Ryan told him. Frank felt the urge to fight back for a moment, his nervousness taking charge in the last few minutes before he would get out of the car and have to face what he had to do. But he didn't fight. Frank watched Ryan and fought back the urge to eye-roll. It was pointless, it was just a mere circle now between them of anxious questions and reassurance. It was easier to just listen.
"You say that you're nervous, but I know that you can do this. Whatever you've ever been given to do, be it work or something different, you've dealt with it. You're always confident with what you do, Frank. You've got your head screwed on, you really don't need to worry about him thinking that you're stupid."
"Thanks."
"I think that we both know that you can do this," Ryan continued, looking Frank right in the eyes to prove his point.
He couldn't even bring himself to open the car door yet, "Yeah..."
"You're just not looking at it positively. Remember, this is a good thing. You got given this opportunity because it wasn't that they're trying to test you but they know that you can do this, too. You're going to do so well with this. Trust me, because I trust you."
"Honestly, thank you, Ry," Frank blushed lightly. Frank smiled at him, reaching a hand across to hold Ryan's fingers in his own. He squeezed gently, affection between the two of them calming Frank more now. He kissed the back of Ryan's hand and smiled, smelling the Pina Colada lotion from Ryan's skin, "Feel like I needed that."
"Glad that I could help," Ryan smiled before checking the time, "Shouldn't you get going? It's nearly nine."
"Probably," Frank nodded as he drew in a shaky breath and glanced out of the window to take one more look at the restaurant. He looked at his boyfriend again, "You gonna wish me luck, babe?"
"You've got all the luck you need," Ryan spoke, looking down purposefully, making Frank groan softly as he remembered he had been given a certain pair of lucky hosiery, "But still, good luck."
"Thanks," Frank said as he broke the distance between them and gave Ryan a tender kiss that seemed to surprise him. They whispered a soft 'I love you' each before Frank actually opened the car door. He pulled his bag with him as he got out of the car and slid it onto his shoulder before he leaned down to look at Ryan, "I'll see you when I get home."
"Then you can tell me how well it went."
It was when Ryan had pulled out of the parking space and waved goodbye that Frank felt his nerves rise up again like a wary dog on guard. They weren't as bad as when he had been sitting in the car. He felt like he had his anxiety under control but it was still worming it's way up. He made his way toward the restaurant, crossing the road and semi hoping that a car would hit him and he wouldn't have to do this. It wasn't even like he was interviewing a local citizen who was a nobody to the bigger papers out there. No, he was about to interview a Congressman. Even though Frank had finally grabbed firmly onto his confidence as he got closer to the entrance of the restaurant, he still worried. He was interviewing such an important person, the slightest mistake and Frank knew that there would probably be no recovery from it. Not that he tried to focus on that. He kept his mind on the positive outcome of his interview at the end of the day. He finally took hold of the restaurant door to pull it open, taking the first step inside. This was it. The moment that he had been working up to all weekend.
The small restaurant was quiet, just as Frank had expected that it would be at nearly nine am. With a name like 'The Brunch Spot', Frank could imagine that this was the kind of place that got busy before and around lunchtime. Right now there were a few people seated, having breakfast, but it was relatively quiet. It calmed Frank to a degree; if it had been busy then that would have added to his nervousness. He knew he could never concentrate in a bustling and busy restaurant no matter how hard he tried. He was so worried that it would have made it harder for him. Too many distractions. Frank didn't want that, especially when his main focus was the man that was going to be turning up any moment now. Or was possibly already here. Frank wished that he had checked this Congressman out over the weekend. Frank wished that he had found out what he looked like because he was blindly scanning the restaurant, looking at the tables that were taken. He was wondering if the Congressman was here already.
A waitress came over to where Frank was standing, drawing his attention to her after he had been eyeing one of the tables. A man was sat there, older, in a suit, eating breakfast while reading a newspaper. Frank had wondered if it was him, mentally cursing himself if it was because clearly this guy had been here a while if he was already eating breakfast and passing the time by reading a newspaper. Shit on a hot tin roof. Frank smiled nervously at the pretty blonde waitress when she spoke to him, "Welcome to The Brunch Spot. Would you like a table?"
"Uh, no," Frank stuttered, trying to remember what Brendon had said to him over the phone, "There's a reservation under the name, um, 'Way'?"
He grimaced and wondered why he had made it sound like a literal question despite knowing what it was that he was here for and with whom. He knew the reservation; it had been pinned to his fridge since the phone call like a constant reminder every time he went to the fridge to get something. The stupid sunflower magnet of Ryan's holding it for him.
The waitress looked startled but nonetheless she grabbed two menus and smiled at Frank before she pointed towards a set of doors, "Right this way, sir."
Frank followed the waitress through the restaurant, clutching the strap of his bag against his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief when they passed the table where the greying man in the suit was sitting and eating his breakfast while reading the Star-Ledger. Thank God it wasn't him. Frank was grateful; at least there was still a chance that he had arrived here first. He hoped that he had gotten here before Congressman Way just because he wanted to come across some semblance of preparedness. The idea of walking up to their reserved table, coming face to face with the person that he was going to be questioning for the next short period of time, it had a small whimper leaving him.
The waitress led Frank to a side door, holding it open for him. He frowned and stepped outside, unsure of why their reservation had been placed in the small external seating area. There were few tables, not as many as there were inside, dotted around, leaving Frank weaving between the wooden tables with the waitress. He wondered where he was going to be seated, looking at the tables with the cloths laid out over them, salt and pepper on each of the tables along with an ashtray in the middle. Some were situated underneath large umbrellas that provided comfortable shade. But the waitress stopped by one of the tables near the black iron fence that lined the outdoor area. Her hand rested on one of the chairs, asking Frank if he wanted to order a drink while he waited.
"Coffee with milk and no sugar, please." Frank smiled at her as he sat down and set his bag down on the floor beside him. The waitress lay a menu in front of him and across from him at the empty seat.
"Coming up." She told him before she disappeared a second later and went back inside. Frank was alone with himself then and he was able to take it all in. It seemed to all be coming to a head but in a somewhat calming manner. He was still nervous but he felt a sense of clarity that was washing over him. Ryan's words rang out in his head as he reached into his bag and pulled out what he needed. He lay his notebook, pens, and recorder on the table next to the cutlery. Not that he could bring himself to eat anything other than his own fucking foot.
He looked in his notebook, going through the questions he had drawn up over the weekend while he waited for his coffee to arrive. He read through the questions slowly, making sure that they made sense. He was holding his pen between his fingers, twitching and tapping the pen against the table while his bottom lip was pinched between his teeth. The nerves slowly bubbling away under his skin, trying to surface as he continued to tap the pen against the table repeatedly. He realized his notes were perfect and he breathed a sigh of relief as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.
A few moments passed, the waitress came back outside, asking Frank if he wanted to order any food. He declined, his stomach queasy at the idea of any sort of solid sustenance. Any moment now Congressman Way was going to be here and the idea was turning his stomach. He knew he was probably starving underneath all of the anxiety. He was more than likely going to pig out once this was all over. At least he was in the right place for that.
Frank lost himself in his head for a short while as he stared out at the people who were walking along the street. It felt like ages and seconds at the same time. How was he going to come across when he questioned Way? He didn't want to come across as a know-it-all even though Frank knew all about the stuff that interested him. He also didn't want to sound stupid; stumbling over his own questions. The questions that he kept reciting in his head while he waited and drank his coffee. He was worried that Way would probably end up judging him. He didn't want to be seen as a stupid kid; he knew what he was doing. It was just the prospect of getting it out eloquently to a very important man.
"Frank Iero?" He heard it nearby. His own name didn't register for a second until he realized that someone was talking to him. Someone who already knew his name. Frank looked up from his notes with a frown because he wasn't expecting to see anyone other than Congressman Way. Plus he wasn't expecting to see anyone who would full-name him like that. Some guy. Frank frowned, looking up to see a man who was standing by the table, one hand in his pocket while the other hand remained extended like he expected Frank to take it.
It took Frank too long of a second to realize who the man was that was standing by his table. The man dressed in a smart black suit and wearing sunglasses with a shock of orange hair that really caught Frank by surprise. Everything about the person that stood in front of him took Frank by surprise. Not just because he was actually here already, but just... Frank found himself lost for words as he stood up. He pushed his chair back against the decking and extended his own hand to shake the hand of Congressman Way.
He really wasn't what Frank had expected and far from what he had imagined in his head. Frank knew that he was thirty-six, but Frank had built up this image in his head of some regular looking man, or maybe not even regular. Just some man who was probably wiser beyond their years, looking older than they actually were, but no. That was not how Way looked. He was standing in front of Frank, practically taking his breath away and melting his thoughts. His mind was too scattered to construct anything coherent to say to the spectacle of a man that had finally arrived.
"Yes." Frank finally answered dumbly. Gerard just didn't seem like the kind of guy who would have gotten into politics. But there was something about him; maybe it was the way he seemed to ooze confidence as he released Frank's hand. He pulled up the empty chair opposite Frank and sat down gracefully.
Just something about him struck Frank and it rang so clearly in his brain. The vibes from the Congressman were enough to make you completely forgetful of your own name. He shrugged the black blazer off and laid it on the back of his chair. Frank felt even more surprised; for a man of his status, Gerard really was appearing like a man who probably had more hidden than he let on, including the shirt he had chosen to wear. It was white and crisp and littered with large faded polka dots in soft charcoal. Not exactly what Frank thought he would be wearing. Frank couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something about him that gave off an almost powerful vibe. The control he probably had was immense and Frank felt like his head was going to spin as he finally addressed him, "Congressman Way. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure's all mine," He said, taking a seat, smiling at Frank who was still standing up. And somewhat dumbfounded, "You can sit down, Frank."
Frank did instantly, the command grounding him back down into the moment, pulling him away from the shock. It brought him back into reality as he sat down and slid his chair back in toward the table. Frank didn't see it, unaware, but Way was watching him from behind his sunglasses, noticing the blush that was lightly smattering his cheeks. The way his eyes looked down at the table. Gerard cocked his head to one side slightly, taking note in his head, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Thank you for taking the time to do this," Frank said as he reached for his coffee and took a sip.
Frank could not take his eyes off the bright hair that really was drawing his attention. Such a shade of orange that Frank swore he would never have expected to see on a Congressman. Orange wasn't even a strong enough word for Frank right now. It didn't seem to sit right in his head. For a writer, which Frank hoped that he was, anything else could have been more fitting for the shade that was really making him not want to break eye contact for a second. Orange just wasn't enough to Frank. It was like the last shot of vermillion in the sunset before nightfall, like bright embers hidden in the wood of a campfire. It was mesmerizing to the point that Frank could feel himself staring.
Not even eye contact, he couldn't make eye contact with Way right now. The sunglasses were hiding his eyes from Frank and it made him wonder if he was being looked at right now- And that was making his stomach churn even more. He immediately dropped his eyes down and looked at the paper that he had set out in front of him, "I understand that you're a busy man."
"Well yes, I am," Way commented as he picked up the menu that had been placed on his side of the table before he scanned it quickly and set it back down, "But I was happy to make time for this."
Frank smiled at that, feeling a little calmer. He didn't feel like he was completely wasting his time now. Or wasting a Congressman's time, either. Frank thumbed through his notes, "So, do you want to start now or-"
"A moment please," Way told him, pausing him with a hand up. The words halted on Frank's tongue instantly and his mouth closed. Gerard turned to smile at the waitress that had come over to their table, asking him if he wanted to order anything, "I'll get a black coffee please, maybe some breakfast. Frank, are you eating?"
"Oh," Frank was genuinely surprised, "Probably not."
"Are you sure?" Way pushed, "Breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day."
Frank wondered if he should have just told Way that he had already had breakfast before he left to come here. He felt himself shaking his head; he couldn't bring himself to lie and get away with it. The very thought of watching Way eat was making his stomach realize that he was in fact hungry. His nerves had subsided enough to let him eat without having horrible repercussions afterward, "I haven't eaten yet. I wasn't hungry this morning."
"You must eat something," Way practically instructed, "You can't do an interview on an empty stomach."
"I'll be fine." Frank tried to reassure him as he drank a mouthful of his coffee but Way wasn't having it.
"I insist. Eat." He said, his voice a little firmer this time round before he turned to smile at the waitress again, "I'll have poached eggs on brown toast, please. Frank? What will you have?"
Frank picked up the menu that was in front of him and briefly scanned over it before he dropped it back down, "Honestly, I'm not hungry."
"Now, Frank, I can't be the only one out of the two of us eating. That's impolite." Way tilted his head and looked at Frank over the rim of his sunglasses. It was a look that made Frank squirm in his seat and almost feel like he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. He had to eat.
"Fine," Frank sighed and gave in rather than arguing. He didn't want this entire experience to start off badly just because he didn't want to eat. He looked down at the menu a second time, "I'll have... I don't know, dude. An egg croissant with cheese, please."
"More coffee, sir?"
"Maybe a pot, thank you," Way smiled at her as he handed her the menu and leaned back in his chair. Frank wondered if he could actually bring himself to look at the man that was probably watching him right now from the other side of the table from behind his sunglasses, "You don't have to look so nervous Frank. I don't bite."
"I'm not nervous," Frank said, a little quicker than necessary. Of course, he was nervous, he had every right to be nervous as this man watched Frank from behind those dark sunglasses. It was unnerving to say the least, especially when he was first-naming Frank already. Frank hadn't even gotten round to an introduction because Way had just arrived and had said his name when he was stood by the table confidently. How was that such an attractive thing? Even if the naming had already thrown Frank off kilter.
Frank fidgeted in his seat, "I just... How did you know it was me? How did you know that I was the person you were expecting to meet?"
"Well," Way chuckled softly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, fingers linking together. His chin resting on top of them, giving Frank a side curl of a smile, "I like to know the people in my district."
Frank blinked at that. His mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. A wave of confusion passed over Frank. The thought of Way already knowing who he was before he even arrived was slowly trickling into Frank's head. It was like a chill down his spine and Frank felt unnerved by the fact that Way might have already known him or known about him at least. What if he had done a background check on Frank before he even met up with him?
The idea scared Frank a little bit and made him wonder just how much the Congressman already knew about his life. A small noise left Frank, a weird combination of an 'oh' and a muffled 'huh' that seemed to have exhaled from his nose, too. He just continued to blink at Gerard, unable to say anything to him. Frank was immediately confused when Way let out a laugh and shook his head lightly as he leaned back in his chair. Frank scowled a little, "What? What's so funny?"
"I was messing around with you. Trying to break the tension," Way told him as he continued to smirk. The waitress brought over a pot of coffee and another mug, "My assistant showed me the paper for which you work. Your picture is in the paper, above your column... Which coincidentally, has your name on it."
"Oh, yeah... Of course," Frank said, feeling relief wash over him when he realized that he hadn't been the subject of a check.bHe hadn't had his personal life searched with a fine-tooth comb. Just an ice breaker. A weird one at that. He breathed out nervously and looked down, "Oh. I didn't realize."
"Don't look so scared, Frank," Way spoke softly, his words warm and surprisingly calming. Frank nodded at him, watching Gerard pour coffee and grab a small sachet of sweetener. He added the contents into the mug before he took a sip, "I'm also glad that you agreed to meet here."
"How so?"
"I expect that you thought that this was going to take place in my office." He said with a smile and Frank nodded, surprised at the mind-reading capabilities.
"I had wondered, to be honest," Frank replied with a shrug.
"I see our current location as a comfortable setting in which to do this" Way began to explain as he stirred his spoon slowly in his coffee, "Instead of doing this in such a regimented manner in my office, I thought that it could be lighter. Less clerical, more... Convivial."
Frank had no idea what the Congressman had just said; his words sounded like another language. Frank didn't want to sound stupid if he asked Way to repeat himself in a less formal sense. So, he just nodded and hummed in agreement, pretending that he was totally on board with what Gerard had said to him.
"So, why did you pick this place?" Frank continued to question, his general curiosity starting to take over. It wasn't that the restaurant was sub-par, it wasn't even like it was some fancy place that Frank could totally see this guy dining at. It was just that it was some random restaurant.
"Well, publicity is always good," Way chuckled softly, "People seeing me out and about, engaging with the public. But also..." He paused, taking a sip of his coffee before he leaned in closer to Frank, "I assume that some people would stir up chatter if we went to some classy restaurant. They would judge based on money and power and all sorts of things like that. If we went to some run-down cafe then they would start a kerfuffle, saying that I'm trying too hard to fit in with the general public. Plus the food here is exquisite."
"Are you trying to fit in with the general public?" Frank wondered out loud with a small shrug.
"Some people may think that," Way spoke, "In some ways I am, but what it boils down to at the end of the day is that I am just like everyone else. I am just another man. Yes, my job means that a certain amount of people have certain expectations of me, but I'm just the same as say, you, Frank. I do my job just like you do. It doesn't make me any different. I may be different from the normal folk but I find it easier to blend in when they see me among them."
"Your salary must make you stand out from the crowd to a degree, though," Frank brought up, wondering if he was going a bit below-the-belt with bringing up earnings, "Your wife must be happy. Not just because of the money, but the lifestyle that it may incur."
Way frowned for a second, "My wife?"
"Yeah, your wife... Lindsey?" Frank name-dropped, hoping to get some sort of an answer, "It must be a lavish lifestyle to a degree?"
Way cleared his throat and seemed to collect his thoughts, "It keeps her happy. But we don't need money to be happy. We have each other, so even though I do have what people may consider a high profile and very important job, I guess she keeps me grounded to a degree. And the lifestyle that came with the job, well, we would be happy no matter how we live."
Frank smiled at that and nodded as he finished off his coffee. He reached for the pot and poured himself another cup as a way of keeping his hands busy. A man like Way, it must have been interesting in a way, trying to live a normal life with his wife. Just because of his job, it didn't mean that his marriage would be any different.
"So, you two have been married for... How long?" Frank pushed, even though he was nervous, he decided that perhaps marriage was a safer topic than Way's finances. It was like he had dipped his toe into the water with questioning, so to speak.
"We have been married for eleven years," Way commented and Frank could now definitely tell that he was being watched. Frank's hands had disappeared under the table and he was unable to keep eye contact.
"You have such a way with your questioning. Is this interrogation a part of the interview?" Gerard asked with a small tilt to his head. Frank almost fainted.
"No, God no," Frank piped up immediately and looked at Way, wide-eyed, "I was just wondering... Trying to get to know you as a person before we begin, sir."
"Ah," Way nodded, narrowing his eyes. Instantly more formal than he had previously, "Well, that is good to know. I didn't want to find out that your inquisitive nature had an agenda."
"No, honestly," Frank reassured him, "I was just honestly wondering. Like, how does someone get into politics? I mean for yourself, what made you want to get into it? There must have been a reason or a start-off point where you decided that this was the path that you wanted to take."
"Well, I could lie and tell you that I loved all of this from a baby but honestly, I used to find it all boring when I was a kid. It wasn't until I got older that I realized I had some form of an interest in it. I took my Business Degree when I was younger. I moved on to do my Degree in Political Science, but I nearly threw it all away at one point." Way went on to explain casually, not taking in how Frank gave him a quizzical look over what he had said.
"You nearly threw it all away?"
"What with the politics of school that was getting to me, seeing as Political Science is much harder than the Business was, I was also experiencing 'politics' out of school. At home, it was all becoming too much for me," Way continued, "I couldn't cope with the pressure, but I stuck it out."
"What made you stick to it?"
"When I was twenty-six, that was when I decided that I wanted to do something about the place I love. Where I come from," Way told him, "Because one night when I was out, I got mugged. I had everything on me stolen, I was beaten up for possessions. It was a horrible experience to which no one else should be subjected. I knew my area by then. It wasn't exactly crime-free, but it made me want to change those factors. It gave me back my fire. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and dropping out of college was definitely not it."
"So, you stuck it out and became a Congressman?"
"Well, not straight away," Way smirked, "It takes time and a lot of hard work to get to where I am today."
"Still, you made it," Frank pointed out, "Is there anyone else in your family that followed in your footsteps?"
"No," Way chuckled, "When my parents knew what I was aspiring to be, they assumed that my younger brother, Michael, would follow suit. Despite that, we grew up separately. Adopted, you see? He was always a little more away in his own head when we were younger. I was too, but I found a purpose. He, however, he didn't find that and as much as his parents wanted him to turn out more like myself, he chose a different career path."
"What does he do?"
"He had a dream and I helped him get the job that he wanted." Way spoke in a curt tone as he drank his coffee.
"How so?"
"Well, seeing as my baby brother lacks any sort of work ethic unless it means that he gains something at the end, I helped him to get to where he is today. Getting him started, noticed, helping him to climb the ladder in his profession."
"What does he do?" Frank asked again, seeing as Gerard hadn't really answered the initial question he had given him.
"He works in the fashion industry," Way told the younger man, smirking when Frank had raised an eyebrow at his answer, "I know. Hard to believe that we have careers that are practically on opposite ends of the spectrum."
"I just never expected you to say something like that," Frank admitted, trying to quickly reel in his shock.
"Well, it's true. My brother is currently working on next year's Summer line. He did some work with Westwood a couple of seasons ago too." Way added but left it there, guessing that Frank probably wouldn't want to hear that story in great detail. He was right. Frank could not give a single shit.
"Who?"
"Vivienne Westwood. She is a British fashion designer."
"Sorry," Frank stumbled, looking down at his hands that he had laid on his lap, "I don't really know much about fashion. My boyfriend does, though."
"Boyf- Oh, the curly-haired hippie-boy with all the muted colors. What was his name now? Rory?"
"Ryan." Frank smiled and Way offered a lip curl in response, "He'd probably know who you meant."
"So, Ryan knows fashion then?"
"More than me." Frank shrugged with a scoff and Gerard looked him over for a moment in their cultivated silence before a finger came up, pushing his sleek sunglasses up further on the bridge of his nose.
"I suppose that explains the socks." Way smirked and Frank grimaced. Fucking wonderful. Frank was about to bring up something else; he tried to ignore that his face was turning red-hot with embarrassment. He wanted to immediately change the subject and he opened his mouth to try and salvage his ego when the waitress appeared carrying their food. She set their plates down in front of them and Way thanked the waitress with a smile about which Frank now wondered.
Why was it possible for Frank to be easily affected by one smile? He wasn't even smiling at Frank but it still got to him, making his stomach knot up a little more than it already was with nerves. He thanked the waitress for his food and picked up his cutlery from the table. Frank looked down at the plate and internally groaned because food probably wasn't going to sit well with him. And yet, he didn't want to offend especially seeing as he had been so insistent that Frank ate with him.
"So," Way spoke through a mouthful of food, waving his fork in the air towards Frank while he chewed, "Shall we begin properly now? As much as I said that I was happy to do this, I am still on a tight schedule."
"Of course," Frank nodded as he set his knife and fork down and adjusted his notes. He cleared his throat and exhaled shakily, "I'm ready when you are, dude."